O’Brien returned. “Couldn’t reach Cecelia. If she sees them bring in Grace, she’ll know what to do. She knows their methods of questioning.”
Movius picked up a phone, punched the button which put him into a special section of the master switchboard, dialed a number, waited. “Give me Gerard, please… Gerard? This is Dan. Monkey-shines.” He waited for Gerard to respond to the code word, said, “We’re ready to move. Call in every fighting man you have. Bring them across to the Bu-Psych Building. Ferry them by copter.” He put down the phone, went to the map, stared at it.
O’Brien joined him. “Quite a few danger points, Dan.”
Movius nodded. “Charts and pins in a map don’t tell it all. Bu-Con has been throwing its weight around. Raids on the Warrens. People disappearing. Our own rumor campaign about Bu-Con torture chambers has people raging.” He turned to O’Brien. “That’s the important thing to watch—the temper of the people. Now, all we have to do is make Glass show his hand, come out from behind that front of high and mighty legality.”
“If you could make him take over full control without the opps,” said O’Brien.
“We’ll have more recruits than we can use,” said Movius.
“Delicately, Dan. He mustn’t suspect what you’re actually trying to do.”
Movius turned, thrust his hands into his pockets. “It’s one minute to seven. The preliminary starts in one minute.”
Phil Henry sat down at the transceiver.
“Tap the beam,” said Movius.
Henry swung a control board in front of him, flicked a switch. The screen above a transceiver gleamed silver, a pulsing purple rope stretching diagonally across it. The purple rope suddenly showed a moving white band, juggling, dancing, shimmering. Henry’s fingers darted over the controls. Another purple rope came up from the bottom center of the screen, matched itself to the moving white band, contacted it. The white stopped. Immediately, the transceiver in front of Henry began to clack out a message.
Movius and O’Brien stepped forward to look over his shoulder.
“Just warming up,” said Henry.
On the printer tape they could read,” BXBBG… MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR OPPS. NOTHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR OPPS. NOTHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR OPPS. NOTHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR OPPS. NOTHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR OPPS. MAY THE MAJORITY RULE.” The machine stopped typing, continued a low humming.
“Won’t they know we’ve stopped the message?” asked O’Brien.
“Not a chance,” said Movius. “This isn’t the door they’re guarding. They believe the beam can’t be tapped. It’s in all the manuals. There is no way to tap a communications beam short of its terminal.”
The transceiver clacked twice—“XX,” began to chatter with its message.
Work had stopped in the room. People stood in a quarter circle around the corner looking at the activity. The four men at the table pulled note paper to a handy position. They were the star performers now.
Movius ripped the printer tape out of the machine. “They’re after Bu-Trans first.” He read it aloud: “Would you favor reducing the number of government employees through a merging of the Bureau of Transportation and the Bureau of Control under the direction of the Bureau of Control?” He put the tape on the table.
The doodler took up his stylus. “I hope they’re all this easy. How does this sound?” He began to write as he composed. “Would you favor giving greater police power to the Bureau of Control by merging that Bureau with the Bureau of Transportation?”
The other three men at the table nodded.
“That’ll do it,” said O’Brien. He passed the revised question to Henry at the machine.
Henry clipped the question in front of him. “What code number? Theirs?”
Movius fingered the number on his lapel. “Use the first three from mine—six, six, two.”
“Right.” He punched out the numbers and question.
“One minute, fifteen seconds,” said O’Brien. “They’ll never notice the delay.”
Navvy moved over beside O’Brien. “They’ll try to bargain with us for Grace. What do we do then?”
Through Movius’ mind ran the words from his father’s book: “…nothing is important to a revolutionist except his cause.” He felt himself trembling. He’d have to go ahead as planned. Have to! Damn them!
Again the machine began to clack. O’Brien read the tape: “Code 089.” He looked at Movius. “The Coor’s private number.” He held up the tape. “In the event of a Separatist uprising, would you give the Coordinator unilateral powers to restore order?”
Movius got to his feet. “Let that one go.”
“What?” O’Brien spoke. The four men at the table looked up at Movius.
“This is exactly what we want,” said Movius. “He has played right into our hands. We want him to show his dictatorial powers.” He took the tape, handed it back to Phil Henry at the transceiver. “Send it through—code and all.”
“That’s dangerous,” said O’Brien. “Unilateral power means he can do anything legally to restore order. He could take the opp on this one, strike right out at us.”
“Let’s hope he does,” said Movius. He turned to Phil Henry. “Start punching this: To All LP’s—Coordinator Helmut Glass has this day by-passed the opp to make himself dictator. The numbers 089 are held by High-Opp friends of the Coordinator’s and were put in the Selector in an illegal manner. The opp requires that the Coordinator must open the Selector for public inspection upon demand. This demand is hereby made.” Movius put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Signed Daniel Movius, Separatist.”
“If they harm Grace,” said Navvy, “I’ll…”
“You’ll do nothing,” said Movius. “Glass and his friends are to be the focus of public hate. If they survive the revolt, they will have public executions.”
“I thought so,” said Navvy. “You’re just like…”
“Shut up!” raged Movius. “I’d like to hang them up by the thumbs and pour acid on them! But I won’t. I’ll…”
“Sorry,” said Navvy.
A Bu-Psych runner ushered Warren Gerard and his gladiator secretary into the room, pointed to Movius and his group in the corner. Gerard, his bald head glistening under the room lights, made his way across the room, nodded to O’Brien. “Hello, Nate. Didn’t know you were acquainted with Dan.” To Movius, “What is all this, Dan?”
“This is Sep headquarters.” Movius looked at Navvy, nodded toward Gerard and bodyguard. Navvy pulled a gun from his pocket, covered the two from behind.
“Quite an organization you have here,” said Gerard. He looked around with a proprietary air, caught sight of Navvy’s gun.
“Don’t move,” said Movius.
The bodyguard made a motion as though to grab a lapel gun.
“You’d be dead before you touched it,” said Movius. He extended a hand, found the gun in its lapel holster, took it. Gerard and aide had five guns between them.
Gerard’s eyes blazed. “So you were going to make me the Coordinator?”
“On an island somewhere,” said Movius. “You won’t have a thing to worry about for the rest of your life.”
“Loyalty index!” said Gerard.
“I’m returning the favor,” said Movius. “I’m saving your life. You and O’Brien may be the only top officials to escape public execution.”
“You’re damned confident of winning!” blurted Gerard.
“I can’t lose,” said Movius.
Navvy snapped manacles on the men’s wrists, led them over to a central pillar, manacled their arms around the pillar. He turned back. At that instant the lights flickered, came back on as the emergency generator started.
“Your men on the relay ship were late,” said Movius. “It’s sixteen minutes after seven.” He turned to Phil Henry. Before he could speak, the transceiver began to chatter. Movius bent to read the message, felt Navvy beside him.